


Satisfied

by PBJellie



Category: South Park
Genre: Denial, F/M, Princess Kenny McCormick, Sisters, Song: Satisfied (Hamilton), South Park Drabble Bomb, Stick of Truth AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: Princess Kenny McCormick meets a man who is surprisingly witty and handsome.So does her sister, Karen.Written for the South Park Drabble Bomb. Day 1: Denial





	Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by the Hamilton song, Satisfied. Written for the first day of the South Park Drabble Bomb. 
> 
> Denial.

“We never visit the town anymore,” Karen complained, bunching up the hem of her dress in her fists.

“Stop that,” Lady McCormick, the soon to be queen chided, encircling her wrists with coarse hands. Ladylike and a warrior, that was her draw, soft in some places while being tough in others. The ability to lead the kingdom through this troublesome war, the unending war. The one she was born into. The one that would, by her luck, rage on long past the deaths of everyone she knew. 

“Kenny,” a shrill voice cried, much too loud for the suns position, “stop being such a spoil sport.”

“You are a princess, and princesses need to be protected.” 

“That's unfair. Unfair, and you know it.” 

“What could you ever want to do in the town? Pray tell,” Kenny twirled her hair in her fingers. Her eyes rolled as her younger sister opened and shut her mouth a few times, then deflated with a huff.

“I just want to go out. You know, out. See someone besides you and the cook and the guard.” 

“Those people have names,” Kenny bristled.

“I know that. Leopold is not my friend, I am merely his charge. I do not delude myself with any lives of the sort,” Karen ranted, hands in her dress again. Kenny just shook her head, unwilling to restart the argument on decorum. It never stuck, and if she wanted to waste her breath, she'd go back to treaty negotiations with the man-child that was the Elven King.

“Fine,” Kenny sighed, “I need to visit the armory. I suppose, if you behave, you can tag along.”

She fastened a cloak around her sister's shoulders, hesitating briefly as she adjusted the hood. Karen's lips parted in protest, cut off by a single finger. Kenny cinched her own hood, face mostly hidden. 

The town was bustling as they traced their way through the narrow paths through the buildings. A man, gruff and rounder than average, cape around his fat frame, reached for Karen. His fingertips grazed the bunched fabric around her waist. 

Before his grasp was finalized, Kenny ripped a dagger from the stitching of her coat. She thrust it against the man's neck, pressing hard enough to dent the rolls of flesh, but not with enough force to draw blood. There was nothing she would like to do more, especially when her gaze fell to his face. Cartman, the wizard, the one she so reluctantly joined in an alliance. 

“Touch my sister again and I will break your staff,” she bit. “Both of them.”

“Charming as ever, my liege,” Cartman smirked, eyes flicking down to the knife. “Your reflexes are clearly superb, my congratulations.” 

“Still a fat fuck, my condolences. Escort us to the armory, to avoid any more unpleasant encounters.” 

“My pleasure,” Cartman said with an uneasy smile, relaxing slightly as the dagger was removed. Karen shot Kenny a soft glance, her lips turned up as she giggled ever so slightly. 

“This is why you do not leave the gates, Karen,” Kenny stated, glaring at their new traveling partner. “Silence in the armory. Keep your hood on.” 

Karen nodded. Kenny couldn't help but misplace her foot as they crossed the threshold of the workshop. Cartman, not able to see over his stomach, was unable to dodge. He tripped, chin slamming into the hard stone floor. 

“Oh, my dear wizard,” Kenny's voice was saccharine, all cloying sweetness, “you seem to have fallen.” 

“That's Grand Wizard,” Eric bickered, struggling to rise. 

“Well, you are large,” a man working a sword over a forge laughed. 

“Is this how you greet your soon to be queen?” Kenny laughed, tossing back her clock. Her hand stopped Karen. These men had no need to see her entire face. 

“Commander!” The man dropped the sword with a clatter, kneeling with his head cast down.

“Off the ground, Clyde. Who is your friend? Is that an Elven bow in your companion's possession?”

“Commander, yes. New recruit,” Clyde dusted his pants, clapping a man on the back. The muscles in the man's neck tensed, but he was otherwise unaffected. The bow lay flat in his outstretched arms, an offering. 

“Name?” Kenny asked, delicately plucking the tight sinew as she marveled at the intricate designs carved into the wood. 

“I do indeed have one,” he droned. “I suppose we all do.” 

“Aye! That's no way to talk to royalty, you little punk.” 

“Forgive him, he's new. You know how they are, in need of firm discipline,” Clyde elbowed him, eyes narrowed. 

“Why do you let new recruits touch such sacred equipment,” Kenny cut. She turned, seeing her sister's wide eyes. 

“He's cute,” she mouthed , grin twitching at her lips. Kenny shoot her head, though she had to agree, even if he was scrawny. His eyes were blue, a color rarely seen in the kingdom, or in the kingdom of the Elves. 

“He, erm, acquired the bow, along with a quiver of their enchanted arrows,” Clyde danced around his words, hesitating in his choices.

“So he's a spy?” Kenny questioned, walking towards the unnamed man, tilting his chin up with her her knuckle. 

“A spy, a their, these are only titles, my lady,” he responded with a smirk, unflinching. 

“I don't suppose you have any other titles, like a name, perhaps?” 

“Oh, but we've only just met. Surely, royalty like to save something for further in our courtship?” He worked his bottom lip with his teeth, holding her stare with raised brow. 

“Feldspar! This is no way to speak to your commander. She is the reason you have a food ration!” Clyde yelled, before bowing his head in apology to Kenny. 

“I stole an Elven bow undetected,” he laughed, shoulders shaking, “I can steal bread.” 

“You ought to bring me Sir Stanley's shield and helmet, as repayment for your disrespect,” she teased, running a hand over his cheek before backing away. 

“Would you like his head in the helmet, or in my other hand?” He replied, flatly. 

“Those details, I feel, are best left up to the acquirer,” she turned her head as she spoke, catching Karen's love-struck face. 

“And my reward? Perhaps a dinner in my honor, just the two of us? And an evening together, then, if you feel so inclined, a morning?”

“I assure you of appropriate compensation,” Kenny's voice was as cold as a winters stone at night. She exhaled, composing herself momentarily. “What tribe do you hail from?” 

“I serve the royal army, my origins are of no real importance.” 

Kenny smiled, nodding her head shallowly as the armory bowed. She looked back during her departure to see the tops of their heads, all except for Feldspar. Feldspar who was upright, smiling faintly as he watched her leave. 

“I like him,” Karen tittered as they snaked their way back to their home. “Did you see his eyes? He's so handsome. Who knew we had such handsome men in the kingdom? I did not. Did you? Are all of the men in the militia so witty?”

“They are certainly less insolent,” Kenny groaned, pulling down her sisters hood as they entered the gates. “He's not that attractive.” 

“He is so. I saw you, touching is face. I saw it; you like him,” Karen teased, spinning around her sister, covering her face while she suppressed her laughter. 

“I was simply boosting morale, Karen. Nothing more. I am their chief, they look to me for guidance.” 

“He was looking for a little extra, right? Did you hear him? And then, the morning? He likes you,” Karen squealed, jumping up and down. 

“I do not like him,” Kenny lied. 

“I quite like him. Do you think he'd like me?” Karen asked, pouncing upon Kenny's disinterest. 

“We can certainly as him,” Kenny mused, trying to indulge her sister in her foolish antics. She had so little in life, so few things to draw excitement. She deserved this weird foreign man, with his sharp wit, his strong chin, defined noise, and those eyes. 

Kenny thought about those eyes as she rested in her bed that evening.

And many evenings after that. 

Karen chattered on and on about this man. Feldspar, she wrote in loopy handwriting on parchment during lessons. She mixed her paints, led by Leopold, to make the perfect shade of blue. She'd ask, cheeks a brilliant red, palette in hand, if that was the shade. Was she remembering correctly? 

Kenny said she couldn't remember. She lied, again. It was a hair too dark, and it lacked the mischievous glint that colored his whole face. 

She was daydreaming on the lawn while Karen blathered, when they appeared before her, again, this time with helmet in hand. 

“My lady,” he interrupted with a cough, “and company.” He broke into a shallow bow, eyes locked on Kenny.

“Feldspar, the guard let you in?” Kenny asked, hiding her excitement behind a veil of fury. She paused, mouth dropping open as she gazed upon the helmet in his possession. “You brought it?” 

“It took me longer than I intended,” he confessed as Karen started to breath in shallow pants, like she was seeing God himself, as if God would still come near this land. “The Wizard, the fat one, is gathering information from the knight.” 

“You captured him?” Kenny stood before him in amazement. 

“Captured, stole, it's all semantics, right?” Craig deadpanned while Kenny laughed, and Karen, as if on cue, laughed loudly, fanning her face. 

“I suppose it is,” she murmured, turning to her sister. “Have you met Karen?”

“I surely would remember such a beautiful woman,” Craig smiled, those eyes looking past Kenny. She deflated, momentarily, then built herself back up, new found determination for her sister's happiness. 

“Karen is an eligible princess,” Kenny languished, “who is of marrying age. If only there was a warrior, a hero, who was interested in my baby sister?”

“I may know someone,” Craig knelt, taking Karen's hand to his lips, kissing twice. Karen gasped, a strangled sound unbecoming of royalty, but Kenny bit her distaste back.

“Are you? Am I? Kenny!” Karen squealed, knees buckling. Craig grabbed her before Kenny could, catching her inches from the grass. 

“I give my permission for a formal proposal, an arrangement,” Kenny said curtly, whirling into the castle. She could hear their giggling, primarily Karen, from her room. She slammed the window closed before collapsing into her bed.

This what was best for her country, she rationed. This is what was best for her people. Though it may be wrong, this was what was would make her sister happiest, and that was the most important thing. 

You go to war to protect certain things, and for Kenny, that thing was Karen.


End file.
